


The Unfinished Ones

by Gerec



Series: Tumblr Ficlets and One-Shots [4]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Historical Fantasy AU, M/M, Modern AU, Star Wars AU, Western AU, World War I, X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Freeform, X-Men: Dark Phoenix (2019), zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2020-08-09 22:18:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20124748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec
Summary: A collection of unfinished stories and challenges.Ficlets for a prompt-a-day challenge (1-5):1. Shameless Fluff - Steve/Charles (Modern AU)2. A rare pair - Charles/Erik/Logan (Star Wars AU)3. Family - Dad!Charles + Baby!Jean (Dark Phoenix compliant)4. Something you don’t ship - Cain/Charles (Historical Fantasy AU)5. Friends - Emma & Tony & Charles (Modern AU)6. Zombie Apocalypse - alpha!Raven/omega!Charles *NEW*7. Western AU - Bounty Hunter Logan is searching for notorious outlaws the Xavier siblings *NEW*8. Journey Into Darkness - En Sabah Nur takes Charles on a journey into the past. XMA AU *NEW*9. The Great War - Landowner Logan hires Charles to be his daughter's tutor *NEW*





	1. Shameless Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Shameless Fluff  
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Charles Xavier  
Warnings: None
> 
> Based on the alternate ending for my amnesia fic [Lost and then Found](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1339894/chapters/2792626), where Steve and Charles stayed together and Erik never returned to New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a collection of ficlets and one shots that will likely remain unfinished forever, and just needed a home. Warnings are posted at the beginning of each chapter and will vary wildly from Gen to R.

Charles is exhausted by the time Morgan finally falls asleep, her little arms clutched around the teddy bear Steve won for her at the park. It’s a scene right out of every would-be parent’s fantasy; those cherubic cheeks and downy hair, her entire body wrapped around a stuffed toy nearly matching her in size. The look on Steve’s face is as sappy as his own, and the two of them just stand there for long moments, holding hands and watching her breathe, enjoying the first moment of stillness since Tony and Pepper dropped her off in the afternoon.

It comes out between one moment and the next, before Charles even realizes what he’s saying. “I want one.”

Steve smiles, his eyes going a little soft and crinkly even as he teases, “well you should have said so, while we were getting hers. Could have easily shot another ten ducks in a row to win you your own bear.”

“You know very well I wasn’t talking about the bear.”

“Oh you mean Morgan?” Steve says with a grin, and Charles huffs at what he knows is coming next. “Well…I _am_ her godfather. We could just keep her; tell Tony and Pepper she wants to stay here and go on rides and eat cotton candy everyday with Uncle Steve and Uncle Charles.”

He stifles a laugh, and tugs Steve out the spare bedroom – Morgan’s room now, as half of her things have seemed to migrate from the Starks’ place in Manhattan to their Brooklyn brownstone over the past couple of years. With a last, fond look he pulls the door closed behind him, and takes the proffered hand that gently guides them to their own bedroom down the hall.

It’s quiet as they get ready for bed, stripping out of clothes sticky with soda stains and sweat, the expected outcome of a day spent at Coney Island. Charles sneaks a peak as Steve pulls the t-shirt over his head, tossing it into the laundry bin before unbuttoning his jeans. Years they’ve been together now and it still never gets old; seeing that expanse of muscle revealed makes him giddy every time. Of course Steve catches him looking – he does every time, since he’s also watching _Charles_ as he strips – and laughs.

“Like what you see, Professor?”

Charles shrugs. “Not bad, for an art dealer.”

Steve’s laughter follows him into the ensuite, where he relieves himself and then sets to brushing his teeth. Once he’s done they switch places, though Charles steals a quick kiss before he climbs into bed. A few minutes later Steve slides under the covers to join him, wrapping an arm around Charles and tucking him against his chest.

“So do you really mean it? You want to have kids? _A_ kid?”

He thinks about it – really thinks about it, imagining what life would be like for them with children in the mix. Birthday parties and trips to the zoo, and family dinners he didn’t remember having with his own parents. Of course it wouldn’t all be fun and games; raising a child is hard work, if you mean to do the best damn job you can, but Charles can’t think of anyone in the world he’d rather do it with, than Steven Grant Rogers.

“I do. As many as we can. You know we’ve got that big house in Westchester just sitting empty…we could fill it with a dozen kids and have room for more.”

Steve laughs, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “How ‘bout we start with one instead of a dozen? Maybe ease ourselves into it a little. Not bite off more than we can chew.”

Charles scoffs. “You say that now, Rogers, but I know you. We’ll be bringing home enough for a baseball team, once you set your mind to it.”

“I’d make a _great_ Coach—”

“You’d teach them all to cheat!”

“No not at sports,” Steve denies, poking Charles in the side and making him laugh. “Just at board games I promise. So they’ll have a chance at beating you.”

They both laugh loudly at that, and then have to quickly rein themselves in, so as not to wake the four year old Princess slumbering next door. It would not do for Morgan to get a second wind after ingesting so much sugar, as she’d likely keep all three of them up until her parents come for her in the morning.

“Tony probably knows someone who could help us,” Steve says, after a few minutes of quiet. “I suppose we’ll need to find an adoption agency, and a lawyer or two—”

“It’s really too bad that we can’t have a baby ourselves,” Charles teases, “and have to miss out on all the fun of trying to make one.”

For a few moments, Steve doesn’t respond, but then he quips, “Well just because we can’t make one ourselves doesn’t mean we can’t _try_.”

“That is _not_ how biology works, darling.”

“Think of it as putting positive energy into the universe,” he says, promptly rolling over on top of Charles and pinning him to the bed. The smirk softens as he bends to kiss Charles’ lips, gentle and teasing as he adds, “Any way it happens, I want you to be the father of my baseball team, Xavier. Say yes.”

“Yes,” Charles breathes, smiling into Steve’s next kiss. “A thousand times yes.”


	2. Rare Pair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Rare Pair  
Pairing: Cherigan (Charles/Erik/Logan)  
Warnings: None
> 
> A short flash forward for my my Old Republic Star Wars au [Escape from Nar Shaddaa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9726563), with Erik and Logan + Raven on a mission to rescue a missing Charles.

They hear the explosions in the near distance, one followed by another as Ororo and Betsy set off the remote charges as planned. The confusion should give them the time they need to locate Charles and get him to the rendezvous point, where the Blackbird waits to get them off Balmorra and back into Republic space. It’s risky, with just the three of them on extraction, but Erik’s gotten them out of plenty of tight spots before. Plus they have Raven too, who looks ready to murder every Sith she sees with her bare hands, for daring to abscond with the brother she had sworn to protect.

“Let’s go,” Logan says, pointing down the first hallway with a wave of his blaster, “time’s a wastin’.”

There’s nothing Erik hates more than wearing heavy armor, except maybe what they’ve all been forced to don at the moment; the hideous black and red monstrosity that all the Sith troopers wear. He can barely breathe with the bucket on his head, let alone aim and shoot with his blasters. Luckily, their mission is to infiltrate the base and rescue a prisoner, and not to engage with a battalion of the Emperor’s elite forces.

And hadn’t _that_ been a lovely surprise, to arrive planet side and discover the presence of the Emperor’s personal guard, here in some random outpost instead of their Capital on Dromund Kaas?

The soft beep on Raven’s tracker signals their arrival a moment later, outside a non-descript door in what appears to be the residential wing. It’s at the opposite end of the base from the prison cells, according to the stolen schematics they acquired for far too many credits, off Ororo’s shady looking Twi’lek contact Foc’diri. And luck seems to be with them today, after weeks of planning and months spent tracking Charles down; there are no guards in the vicinity, and no one around to see through their disguise.

He’s got a bad feeling about this.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Erik mutters, just as the door swooshes open, revealing someone’s rather luxurious if empty quarters. Nice enough to belong to the base’s Commander if he had to guess, which is _not _where they expected to find their wayward Jedi-in-training. Logan curses under his breath and pulls his blaster out of his holster, prompting both Raven and Erik to do the same.

“Your brother is gonna get us killed,” Logan says without any heat, as though he’s already resigned to the mission going sideways, “I knew he would, the moment I laid eyes on him. It’s always the pretty ones.”

Raven scoffs. “Don’t worry Howlett, I’ve got your back. Plus you’re too ugly to die.”

“Is no one else even a little concerned with how easy this whole thing has been so far?” Erik hisses, because now is _really_ not the time for witty banter.

Leveling his best glare at Erik – which hasn’t worked even once in the fifteen years they’ve known each other – Logan snaps, “You call this easy? We’re in the middle of a base crawling with Sith, on a planet controlled by the Empire! It’ll take a bloody miracle to get us all out of here in one piece.”

“I’m just saying there’s a lot of—”

They freeze, blasters aimed and ready, when the inner door suddenly opens to reveal the subject of their search, looking wryly amused and entirely unruffled. Charles looks rather well for a prisoner, his blue eyes sharp and blue as ever, and Erik can scarcely contain the joy and relief that overwhelms him, threatening to manifest itself in some sort of sappy declaration entirely inappropriate for the occasion.

Instead, he yanks the helmet off his head, crossing the room to wrap his arms around Charles and pulling him into a deep and lingering kiss.

He is very pleased when Charles kisses him back, opening up to him like a flower in bloom.

He is _less_ pleased when he feels an arm grabbing his shoulder, and hauling him away from the object of his – now not so secret – affection.

“Logan, what the hell—”  
  
“Now’s not the time to lose your head, Lehnsherr,” the man growls, giving him a good shake. “Charles is…” He shakes his head. “He’s not in any danger. We, however, are royally fucked.”

“What’s the matter, Logan,” Charles teases, “aren’t you going to kiss me too?”

Logan stiffens, but doesn’t look Charles in the eye when he replies, “I don’t kiss no Sith, Xavier.”

It’s only then that Erik realizes what he’s missed; what Logan’s cool head and Raven’s sharp senses caught the moment Charles stepped into the room. His old leathers are gone, along with the blaster that Logan had lovingly retrofitted for him only three days after their first meeting on Nar Shaddaa; in its place are rich robes in red and black, and a double bladed lightsaber hanging at his side.

Erik knows in his heart of hearts, that the lightsaber glows red.


	3. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Family  
Pairing: None (Dad!Charles + Baby!Jean)  
Warnings: None
> 
> A Dark Phoenix compliant snippet.

For all that the Professor said to Jean about the School – that it was her new home, and the people there would be her new friends and family – she knew it wouldn’t last, no matter how sincere his words sounded to her ears and in her head. She was forever breaking things, when she stilled lived at home with Mom and Dad, and they would get angry sometimes even if they told her it wasn’t her fault.

(And even though they never blamed her out loud, she could hear what they were thinking, that it would be so much easier if she didn’t have these powers she didn’t know how to control.)

The Professor gave her a room close to his own, and filled it with things she couldn’t bring from the house; books and clothes and board games that he taught her how to play when he wasn’t teaching, or doing adult things. But Jean never unpacked the few things that she _did _have from home, keeping them stored safely in her backpack under the bed. Easier to have it all in one place, she thought, when she finally broke something expensive (or worse, hurt someone badly) and the Professor had to send her away.

(The first time she broke a priceless antique vase by accident, the Professor only smiled and squeezed her hand, then asked her to try and use her powers to pick up the broken pieces.)

Sometimes she would dream about her parents, and the car accident that took them away, and wake up screaming for them to come back, and not to leave her all alone. Sometimes she would dream about the three of them at home, happy, the way they used to be, and she’d wake up hugging her pillow, wet from crying in her sleep. And the Professor would always be there when she opened her eyes, brushing her hair back or holding her hand, telling her it was okay to be sad, and to miss the people you love, but that it wouldn’t hurt this much forever and ever…

(She knew he understood how it felt, because he had people he missed just as much; people who had gone far away.)

One night she found herself grabbing the backpack from under the bed, and gently shaking the contents onto her bed. She put the picture frame on the nightstand, and the painting she’d made on the desk, and set her teddy bear Bigsby on top of the bedspread. It made her cry, to see her parents’ faces staring back at her, but it was good too to see their smiles again, and remember how much they loved her.

(The Professor said nothing, when he saw the new additions to her room, though he held her tight for a long time when she reached out to hug him.)


	4. Something You Don't Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Something You Don't Ship  
Pairing: Cain Marko/Charles Xavier  
Warnings: Implied child abuse, implied noncon, implied a/o verse
> 
> Cain and Charles are childhood friends. Their relationship changes over the years.

Cain met Charles Xavier the night of their parents’ wedding, six months after the death of Duke Brian Xavier. Even then young Cain understood that Charles was special, for he was the sole heir to the Principality of Westchester, where his father Kurt had served as Chamberlain since before he was born. Charles was beautiful, brilliant and beloved by all, kind as he was to servants and nobles alike. He was even generous with Cain, whose own father called ‘worthless’ and ‘stupid’, extending a hand in friendship to an ungainly teen with nothing to offer. But Charles treated him fondly, and spent hours instructing Cain in his letters, even when his tutors had deemed him slow-witted and wholly unteachable. 

Oh, how Cain adored his one true and only friend.

Things did not change until the arrival of one Raven Darkholme, a distant cousin who would be fostered with them at the Keep. Though she tried to befriend them both, Cain came to resent her, for her mere presence was enough to drive a wedge between the boys’ enduring friendship. Charles adored her smile and her sunny disposition, and took her under his wing as he once did for a reticent Cain. The two spent hours together, laughing and making merry, while Cain could only look on longingly from afar. So he filled his days and nights with hard training, to master sword and shield, hoping to impress both Charles and the father who loathed him.

It hurt that Charles barely noticed Cain’s absence from his side.

But jealously did not become envy until the arrival of Erik Lehnsherr, a young knight who immediately caught a blushing Charles’ eye. He watched as Charles found every opportunity to watch the man train, though he never once expressed an interest in Cain’s own impressive regimen. He watched them whisper together, or steal glances like thieves from across the training yard, too young and besotted to be discreet with their affection. And he watched Charles take a smiling Lehnsherr’s hand one day and tug him close, before pressing their lips together in a kiss that was sweet and intoxicating.

Cain’s aching heart broke even as he swallowed his rage. 

In the end it was Kurt who ended things before they truly began, between Charles and his would-be suitor, for his were not the only eyes that followed the ill-fated pair around Graymalkin. Lehnsherr was banished from the Keep – barely escaping with his head upon his shoulders – leaving a bereft Charles to seek solace from a patient and understanding Cain. And if Charles’ bitter tears made him even more beautiful and desirable in his eyes, Cain at least was wise enough not to say it aloud.

When Charles came of age, Kurt pulled him aside, and for the first time he seemed to look upon his son with new and more forgiving eyes. With great solemnity Kurt charged him with a task, one he said, that only Cain could fulfill to his satisfaction. It was his intention to marry Charles to Cain to further seal their alliance, and ensure that the Markos’ progeny would inherit Westchester and the riches of the Xavier inheritance. It would not be easy, Kurt said, for Charles would surely object, and Cain would be saddled with a mate that could prove resentful and unruly. But he had great faith in Cain, his father continued, for growing into a man to be counted on, and the kind of husband that a wayward spirit like Charles truly needed.

Those words were akin to a rainstorm after a years long drought, promising the approval that Cain had desperately craved all his life.

Indeed Kurt’s trust in his son was well placed, for nothing could be said to sway him from his duty. And nothing – not tears nor threats, nor pleads and recriminations – would keep Cain from taking what he wanted; what should have been his and his alone from the start.

He learned to love Charles’ tears, as much as he once loved Charles’ smiles.


	5. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Friends  
Pairing: None (Charles Xavier & Emma Frost & Tony Stark)  
Warnings: None
> 
> Charles + Emma + Tony as besties! Emma takes Charles shopping and Tony tags along for support :D

The car came to a screeching halt in front of the Prada store, in a parking space that was conspicuously empty for a midday afternoon in New York. Charles’ hunch – that Emma’s assistant had notified the manager of their pending arrival – was verified not a moment later, when two employees came bustling out of the store. Tony hopped out of the driver’s seat with his usual panache, tossing his keys to the young man with a grin, and then hopped around to help Emma out of the car.

“—good to see you again, Ms. Frost. The new collection’s just arrived and we’ve set aside some pieces that we think you’ll enjoy,” the other employee was saying as Charles climbed out of the back. She was probably around thirty – so more than ten years their senior – and obviously the one in charge, warm and gracious and only slightly fawning. It was clear that she was used to Emma’s particular ‘preferences’ when it came to shopping, for they were immediately ushered inside to the private dressing area and each handed a glass of Dom Pérignon. 

It was also clear that she knew him and Tony by sight, greeting them by name even though the two of them frequented clubs way more often than clothing stores. Not surprising, as they were all scions of some of New York’s wealthiest families, their last names attracting attention both good and bad, something that Tony luxuriated in and Emma cultivated with confidence and style.

Or perhaps it was due to the fact that he and Tony made the cover of a tabloid just last week, for getting drunk and stripping down to their underwear on the dance floor.

“Doris, we’re here for Charles today,” Emma said, as they settled onto the leather couch, with Tony propped on the arm like an overgrown child. “We need suits, as well as casual wear. Oh and something blue to bring out his eyes—”

“And some tight pants to show off his tushy,” Tony added, gargling his champagne like an absolute heathen. Emma rolled her eyes and took the flute out of his hand with a tsk. “He has a hot date and we want him to get spectacularly laid.”

Charles groaned as Doris stifled a smile and headed out of the room with quick nod. “Must you? I knew I shouldn’t have told you guys about Erik.”

“Oh please,” Emma scoffed, “you couldn’t keep a secret from the two of us if you tried. And you should be grateful we’re not insisting on coming with you tonight—”

“You would _not_,” Charles said, utterly horrified at the thought.

“Sure we would. Still can’t believe you’ve been on three whole dates with this guy before we even knew he existed!” Tony answered. Then he winked at Emma and added, “Don’t worry I ran a check on him. He’s clean. Kind of boring and a Mama’s boy but nothing our Charles can’t handle. Finishing up a degree in mechanical engineering and getting top grades, so we know he’s at least smart enough to hold a conversation with baby Xavier over here.”

He sighed. “You’re older than me by three months.”

“Older is older.”

“Children,” Emma said, just as Doris returned with two assistants and a rolling rack of assorted shirts and pants and suits in various colors. “Time to get down to business.”

* * *

Hours later – after Charles had gotten spectacularly laid in a multitude of positions – he turned his cell back on and saw the texts from his friends.

_E: You’re not texting back which must mean you’re getting laid._

_T: It was the pants! Tell me it was the pants._

_T: How is he? Does he have a giant dick? Does he know how to use it?_

_E: Ignore him. We’re coming to take you two out for brunch in the morning. Don’t try to get out of it Xavier or we’ll make you pay._

_E: Love you. _

_T: What she said._

Charles smiled, and then sent a reply.

_C: xoxo Also he has a monster for a dick :)_


	6. Zombie Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Raven/Charles, Charles/Others (mentioned)  
Warnings: Noncon, a/o
> 
> A powered, alpha/omega, zombie apocalypse au where siblings alpha!Raven and omega!Charles run into a band of mutants intent on re-populating the world.

“Raven,” he whispered, voice trembling as he bit back a choked sob. “Please, you’re my sister. Not you too.”

“It’s okay, Charles.” Her voice was pitched to cajole and to sooth, drawing from him the deeply rooted instinct to relax against her touch. “It’s almost over now. Just lay back and let me take care of you.”

He thrashed and bucked and tried to throw her off, though his efforts did nothing to dissuade her; she pushed in and immediately started pumping her hips, burying her cock deep inside his used and aching body. At least it didn’t hurt anymore, what with the others having all had their turn, ruthlessly fucking and knotting him until he was loose and swollen with come. It was not how he imagined things would turn out, after months of running from the marauding zombie hordes; that his secret would be uncovered and then exploited so callously, in the back of an abandoned pickup truck by the side of the road.

“Charles,” Raven moaned, her hands as gentle on his hips as the others were rough on his bare skin, holding him prone against the faded leather seat. He could scarcely breathe with the way Erik was pressing down hard on his shoulder blades, keeping him immobile for Raven to fuck. “Yes, this is…I’m going to put a baby in you, Charles. A baby we’ll love with all our hearts.”

“Best get on with it,” the hairy one growled, the one called Logan, who had been the first to push Charles on his knees and strip him bare. He _wanted_ him – they all did, as soon as they realized what he was and what it meant – and didn’t care that the cabin was covered with gore, strewn body parts ripped to pieces by metal and claws. “It’s getting dark soon and more of ‘em will come.”

“What? You worried about a few zombies?” Azazel snarked, leaning casually against the side of the truck with a smirk. Unlike Logan, his eyes were glued to the newcomers in the back seat, a knowing grin curving his lips when Raven started picking up the pace. “That’s right girl. Give it to him good. He’ll learn to like it soon enough.”

“No, I won’t,” Charles bit back, even as he groaned against a particularly harsh thrust, his body shivering with revulsion at being violated by his own sister. It hardly mattered that they weren’t siblings by blood; Charles had never wanted this with Raven, or with any other alpha not of his own choosing. But he couldn’t - _didn’t_ blame her - for this, because it wasn’t_ her_; he blamed the other telepath, Emma, who had stepped in and casually stripped Raven of her conscience and self-control.

“It won’t matter, sugar, whether you like it or not,” she said from her spot in the front seat, her long nails tap tapping to the rhythm of Raven’s increasingly frantic thrusts. “There are so few of us left, and so many of these _things_. You won’t make it another week if we don’t take you in—”

“I’ll take my chances,” Charles groaned, just as Raven bucked her hips and slammed him into the upholstery, her knot spreading wide and locking into place. He could feel her shiver as she started to spurt, her arms wrapped around him in a parody of their sibling affection. “No, no, no, Raven, please, no…”

“Oh…Charles, oh,” she moaned, and then she was kissing him, his sister, her lips on his as warm stripes coated his sore and abused hole. He ached from the stretch of being bred so many times in a row, forced to take their seed until he felt close to bursting. Charles wanted to scream and kick and throw Raven off of him, like he’d tried to do with all the others—

Instead he could only pull her close and cling even tighter, eyes pinched shut so she couldn’t see his tears.

“Come now, she won’t even remember this when she wakes up,” Emma said, as Raven shuddered one last time before her eyes closed and her head slumped against his chest. Charles wanted to laugh at the morbid irony of their current position, how often he and Raven had slept just like this as children, taking comfort in each other’s reassuring presence.

He scoffed, and then gasped when Azazel lifted Raven off of him, her deflating knot catching against his rim as her cock was pulled loose. “But _I’ll_ remember it, though I guess that’s the point? Making her do-- So I’ll do whatever you say to make sure it doesn’t happen again?”

_Whatever it takes_, she replied, without a hint of remorse.

_I hate you. All of you. I won’t forget this._

_It doesn’t matter. As long as you bear children for us, there’ll at least be someone left in the world to hate_.

“Let’s go,” Erik said, the first words he’d spoken since he and his group had found them trapped by a crowd of zombies and saved them from being bitten and turned. “We need to take him to Shaw.”

He felt it then, liquid metal sliding in and forming a plug, holding it all in to ensure that a pregnancy happened from their forced breeding. Charles pulled his shirt down and yanked his pants up with a snarl, though he didn’t fight when Logan grabbed him from the truck and hefted him over his shoulder.

“Hold on tight.” Azazel stepped into view with a sleeping Raven in his arms, while the others gathered around and grabbed onto his biceps. There was a feeling of displacement, the acrid smell of sulphur, and then Logan was dropping him onto his feet, inside some sort of military compound behind a high, barb wired fence.

Emma grinned as Erik grabbed him by the wrist, and started half dragging him towards the heavy metal doors leading to a giant airport hangar.

“Welcome to your new home, Charles,” she said, lips curved in a sardonic smile. “I just know you’re going to _love _it here.”


	7. Western AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Logan/Charles  
Warnings: None
> 
> A Western AU I started ages ago and never finished, based on [this artwork](https://gerec.tumblr.com/post/122692451386/dwaroxxx-western-au-where-charles-xavier-has-a) by the amazing dwaroxxx (now varrix). Charles and Raven are fugitive outlaws on the run, notorious for their ability to commit brazen robberies and then disappear without a trace. Logan is the bounty hunter tracking them to a remote town in Arizona...

“What do you want, kid? Somethin’ on my face?”

The kid has been staring at him for the last hour, eyes raking slowly up and down Logan’s body from the top of his dusty hat to the spurs of his favorite worn leather boots. Being subject to such intense scrutiny might have been unsettling, if the kid’s expression didn’t make it damn clear what was on his mind.

Logan’s in no danger from him. At least, not the usual kind.

The kid grins, sliding off his stool at the end of the bar and making his way over to Logan. He looks young - almost too young to be in a cesspit like this - clean shaven with wavy brown locks and the bluest eyes Logan’s ever seen. There’s a swagger to his step that’s either real confidence or all show, and it’s got him more than a little intrigued.

“Just wondering what you’re doing here, drinking alone. Are you waiting for someone?”

He snorts, swallowing his beer with a gulp as the kid continues to watch him with keen interest. He’s been in Charity for two days now, and so far there’s been no evidence that the Xavier siblings have ever been here, despite Lebeau’s confidence in his ‘anonymous’ source.

The anonymous source that _still_ hasn’t shown up to meet him, who promised more concrete details about the two fugitives Logan’s been tracking across all of Colorado and half of Arizona. The siblings Charles and Raven Xavier, notorious for a slew of daring bank and stagecoach heists along the East Coast, carrying prices on their heads so high they’ve got every bounty hunter in the country hot on their trail.

So far they’ve stayed well ahead of pursuit, dropping clean out of sight after each robbery, only to reappear a few days or weeks later with guns blazing and seemingly out of thin air. It’s left the authorities wringing their hands in frustration, so much so that Sheriff Lehnsherr had personally contacted Logan to take on the job, offering an extra finder’s fee on top of the stated reward for his services.

To bring the Xaviers back _alive_, and still in one piece.

“Nobody you’d know,” he growls and turns away, ignoring the way the kid is slowly encroaching into his personal space. “And unless you’ve got information on a couple of bank robbers I’m tracking, I ain’t interested in anything you got to say.”

The kid stares at him, eyes crinkling with mirth, his smile sly and predatory. “Oh but Mr. Bounty Hunter,” he says, damn English accent making the words sound proper_ and_ lewd at the same time, “I bet there’s _something_ that I can say to change your mind.”

Logan almost spits out his drink, not expecting the kid to be so forward in the middle of the damn bar. He takes another long look and considers his options; he can send him away with a snarl and go back to drinking alone, wasting time, or he can humor the kid for a little while and see where it takes them.

“What’s your name?” he asks, and the smile that lights up the kid’s face is nothing short of predatory, sending warning signals shooting straight up and down Logan’s spine.

“Francis. Francis Darkholme. And you’re James Logan Howlett, bounty hunter and gun for hire. I’ve heard a lot about you Mr. Howlett. I wonder…are you really as good as they say, hmm? With your _gun_?”

He arches an eyebrow, and slowly rakes his eyes over the kid from head to toe, lingering for long moments on the bit of pale skin under his open collar and the bulge in his criminally tight pants.

“Yeah,” Logan says with a grin and a lick of his lips, leaning into Darkholme’s space until they’re almost nose to nose. “You wanna see how good I am, kid?”

He hates to admit something quite so ridiculous at his age, but Francis’ answering grin – teasing and full of promise – makes him feel like he’s stepping right in the path of a speeding train.

"Oh I do, Mr. Howlett," the kid says, "I really, _really_ do."


	8. Journey Into Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: None  
Warnings: None
> 
> En Sabah Nur takes Charles on a journey into his past. XMA AU

_You’re just another false god. And whoever’s left to follow you when this is all over…they will betray you again._

_You’re wrong, Charles. For the first time in a thousand lifetimes, I have you._

* * *

The hard stone at his back gives way to soft dirt and green grass, the sun shining bright on a warm summer day. Charles slowly pushes himself up and onto his feet, brushing the palms of his hands absently against his trousers. There are no discerning landmarks in their immediate vicinity - only tree and shrub and the sounds of the wild; nothing to indicate his arrival at any noteworthy time or place.

And yet he _does_ know where they are – or more accurately, _when_ – knowledge that En Sabah Nur confirms as he materializes a moment later at Charles’ side.

“This was the place of my birth, the cradle of civilization in the days before recorded history,” he begins, as two women, one carrying a babe swaddled in furs hurries out of a nearby cave. “I have lived among humans from the dawn of time and I assure you…ever have they been cruel to the weak and the different. Millennia have passed since then, and yet it remains much the same.”

They follow without moving, easily keeping in time with the women as they continue on, with their meager belongings strapped to their backs – two sisters, running from their own tribe. The babe they carry is not even a year old, and yet Charles knows in his heart that he is the one in grave danger.

“My mother hid my existence for as long as she could,” En Sabah Nur says, as the day around them turns to night and then back again. “But when I got sick she had no choice but to take me to the healer. He took one look at the color of my skin, Charles, and what do you think he said?”

He _knows_, because he knows everything in En Sabah Nur’s mind, as the man knows everything in _his_, connected as they are in this unearthly place. His captor knows exactly what Charles sees when he looks upon the tiny blue babe in the woman’s arms; he sees Raven. Hank. Kurt. Even Azazel.

They watch as the women are surrounded by three men with spears; men from their village, come to kill the child. The women plead but the men are merciless, and there is a struggle that soon ends with the men dead by the sister’s hand – their bodies disintegrated into piles of dust.

But it is too late for the mother, who takes a spear in the chest meant for her babe.

Charles shakes his head. “What happened to you was a terrible thing. But that doesn’t justify enslaving the world to serve your whim! There are good, _kind_ people out there, who just want to live their lives without fear. This doesn’t change what you are…an egotistical monster.”

When he turns, it is Ashmadu standing before him, the name En Sabah Nur bears in that first lifetime. The man wears no armor, and is much shorter than the mutant Charles has come to know, though the expression on his face carries the same air of grace and arrogance.

“I am what the world made me, Charles,” Ashmadu explains gently, his lips curving into an indulgent smile as the air around them shifts and changes. “The world deserves nothing less than what I am.”

They return to the side of Ashmadu’s aunt as she lays in her death bed, clinging to her beloved nephew’s hand. Charles watches in horrified wonder as her aged body begins to turn grey and shrivel, her powers – and her life – taken and absorbed by a mad man.

Ashmadu reaches to stroke the woman’s cheek gently, almost reverently and whispers, “I have loved so many, over countless lifetimes. I am gratified to keep them with me still, in some small way.”

Charles scoffs. “You call this love? You take what does not belong to you! You use your gifts to dominate others…that isn’t _love_. Love is kindness. Love is hope, and trust! Love is what you give to others, not what you can take for yourself!”

“And how has that worked out for _you_, my dear Charles?” Ashmadu counters, as they reappear on the edge of a river, a great desert spreading outwards beyond the horizon. “Your kindness has ever been met with betrayal by the ones you love most. You gave _everything_ to them, and they did nothing but hurt you. Disappoint you. _Abandon_ you.”

The words burn him to the core, settling like simmering fire under his skin. “It’s not about reciprocation. There’s no debt to repay for love freely given.”

A soft chuckle falls from Ashmadu’s lips. “No. But love often requires a bit of sacrifice, doesn’t it, Charles? Or more specifically…_your _sacrifice. You know what it is to having nothing, to have _no one_, and so you surround yourself now with your children, basking in their adoration so the loss doesn’t cut quite so deep. So you don’t have to feel the pain so keenly, in the dark when you sleep alone, isn’t that right, hmm?”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Charles snaps, unable, and unwilling to acknowledge even the merest hint of truth in the man’s words. “And you can never hope to understand me, because we are nothing alike.”

Ashmadu smiles. “My mistake. Come, let us continue.”


	9. The Great War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: future Logan/Charles  
Warnings: None
> 
> Logan is a landowner in Canada after the first World War and Charles is the new tutor he's hired for his daughter Laura.

The letters arrived a week apart, just after the new year.

It was Cain they heard about first; that he’d died on the Western Front, in a joint battle with French forces against the Germans near the River Somme. That he’d died a hero alongside his contingent, in service to His Majesty King George.

Erik too had been lost in the same place and the same horrific battle, but with him they were told, there would be no body to bury.

Charles didn’t remember much of the ensuing months, as he and Kurt lived like ghosts in Xavier Manor, often going for days without speaking to each other or to the few staff that remained with them during the war. The only interaction he had with the outside world was to secure a place for Edie in Raven’s household; newly married she was in the position to ensure that Erik’s mother would be well cared for, in the absence of her only son.

It was the least he could do for his childhood friend and lover, and for the woman who was his in-law in all but name.

He found that he could muster no real interest or even indignation, when word eventually came almost a year after the war ended; that Kurt had found a way to get Charles out of England and far away from the Xavier estate. His services as a tutor were sorely needed, Kurt said, and so he’d happily offered them on Charles’ behalf, to someone who was owed favors by the British government. As a Commonwealth country Canada had been an important food source for the troops during the war, much of the wheat and other staples farmed and shipped out of the fertile Prairies in the West. Deals had been done and promises made, with Charles involvement now somehow part of the repayment. 

It was all quite unbelievable, and a thinly veiled excuse that Charles didn’t bother refuting.

For in the end it hardly made a difference to Charles where he spent his days, heart sore and spirit broken by the loss of the man he loved; there was no where he could go that would make the pain less excruciating. And so he packed his belongings without complaint and set off to a new life, boarding a ship for New York on a balmy May morning.

The trip across the Atlantic took five days, and then it was another ten days by train to reach his final destination. And though the trip was long, Charles at least had first class accommodations throughout; an unexpected generosity from Kurt that allowed him a measure of ease and comfort as he travelled. It was easier now, years after the accident, though Charles would always need a cane when he walked, and couldn’t stay on his feet for very long without a break.

He was met at the train station in Edmonton by a young man who looked to be sixteen or seventeen, with red hair and a sunny smile as he shook Charles’ hand. Introducing himself as Sean Cassidy, he happily took up the luggage and piled it all neatly into the back of a rusty old farm truck, holding the door open for Charles to climb in. They spoke idly as they drove out of the city and into the country side, and Charles did his best to answer Sean’s myriad questions about London, his trip, and his earlier studies at Oxford. 

They were on the road for about twenty minutes when Sean asked, “So Prof., what is it that you do, exactly?”

“Well, I studied the Sciences as I said, but I’m well versed in History and Mathematics too. I’m not sure what Mr. Howlett has in mind but I’m sure I’ll be able to handle whatever he—”

Sean chuckled. “No, not that. I mean, what’s your thing that makes you special? Knowing Logan…well, he mostly hires people like him to work on his farm. Wouldn’t expect any different for someone he’s bringing in from overseas to teach his daughter Laura.”

“People like him?” he repeated, unsure if Cassidy meant some common background or shared religion. But then he allowed himself to unwind his telepathy just a little – something he usually kept tightly controlled, as he’d done most of his life – and realized exactly what it was that he meant.

It made Charles laugh, the discovery so unexpected but utterly welcomed. “I’m a telepath. But I had no idea that was the reason I was chosen for the job.”

Sean shot him a look, lips quirked in a teasing smile as he quipped, “Then you must not be a very good one.”

It was good natured ribbing that Charles was happy to indulge; he’d been prepared after all, to hide his abilities for the duration of his two year contract. Before now he’d known no others like him except for Raven and Erik, and Charles had no idea how his telepathy would be received here, among strangers and so far from home.


End file.
